


touch me with no hands

by spookysp_ace (summermoonsdawn)



Series: urban flora [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Link in notes, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Smut, Teasing, and Osmau provides, lyrics from "Show Me" by Galimatias, the one where Keiji gets what he wants, they love each other okay, they're married so, this is my first smut fic, title from the same song, use of ribbon as restraint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summermoonsdawn/pseuds/spookysp_ace
Summary: Osamu is a starving man. He is a man who had to go to work when there was a meal laid out in front of him–in the form of dark sheets and pale skin; puckered, damp lips stretched in a lovely O.The look Keiji had given him as he left their apartment spelt trouble. Keiji had licked his lips wet, eyes slanted in wakefulness–and Osamu, goddammit, he’d just wanted todevourhim.-Or the one where Keiji gets what he asked.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: urban flora [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910344
Comments: 7
Kudos: 113





	touch me with no hands

**Author's Note:**

> “Like my goblin brain just inferred that Keiji will make him pay for it later and osamu will say thank you for this gift I love you with my whole soul anything you want now and always” - Faith
> 
> and now we're here. i really suggest reading the previous part, just to like, get a sense of time/space. but... i guess that wouldn't be 100% necessary.
> 
> this is my first smut/E rated fic so it took me a lot longer to do than i was hoping, but i hope y'all still enjoy...
> 
> PLEASE listen to this song either before or during reading for full effect:
> 
> [Show Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0finDBw-Nyo) by Alina Baraz and Galimatias.

-

  
_Rising like the smoke_  
_You linger on me_  
_You got me so high_  
_I can finally breathe_  
_You’re walking poetry_

-

  
Osamu is a starving man. He is a man who had to go to work when there was a meal laid out in front of him–in the form of dark sheets and pale skin; puckered, damp lips stretched in a lovely O. He had been on the brink of working his lips to the very point of Keiji’s (and his own, in many ways) pleasure when Saki-chan had called.

The look Keiji had given him as he left their apartment spelt _trouble_. Keiji had licked his lips wet, eyes slanted in wakefulness–and Osamu, goddammit, he’d just wanted to _devour_ him. Whole, slowly. He would have taken his tongue up Keiji’s chest to make his husband’s chest a canvas, and his tongue the brush. Keiji’s nipples would be the golden ratio of the portrait; two perfect peaks, drawn and pulled by Osamu’s near domesticated teeth, until they were swollen and red. Until Osamu would become untamed, and Keiji as his leash, broken.

That had happened earlier in the morning, just after the sun had made a full wake in the Tokyo sky. 

Now, Osamu stared at his phone.

More accurately, the picture on his phone.

They were in the middle of lunch rush at Onigiri-Miya and his phone started to slip from his hands. Osamu simultaneously wanted to slam his head down on the cabinetry of the work space in front of him—become one with the rice and nori). If his body melded with the onigiri, he could disappear from the plane of this existence. For a moment, the world tilted, and he was no longer in Onigiri-Miya—he’s back home, to that morning, with Keiji laid out before him like a treat ready for consumption. 

Osamu sat down, in the back of the Tokyo shop, staring at the photo and text chat in front of him.

  
**Ji-Ji ( 〃▽〃)**  
_Come home?_

**_attachment IMG_5011.JPG_ **  
**12:52 PM**

  
Below the simple message was a just as seemingly simple photo. But the more Osamu looked, the more he wanted to go. 

Steel-grey eyes fluttered at him. Their lashes were fans over high cheekbones, warmed and flushed, his face semi-smushed into their bed and the dark sheets enveloping him. He was laying on his stomach, the shirt he’d worn earlier was out of the way—likely crumpled on the floor by the state of Keiji. 

The hand that wasn’t holding his phone, was out of the shot. Somewhere between the mattress and his body, his shoulder was curved inward like he was reaching—down, hidden, in a place completely out of sight. Osamu could only hope to guess they’d found purchase at the sweet spot curved below the landscape of his snowy hips.

**Me**  
_Keiji, yer killin’ me_

**12:55 PM**  
_**delivered** _

  
**Ji-Ji ( 〃▽〃)**  
_Did you get a key for Saki-chan?_

_Osamu, I meant it when I asked for you_  
_to fuck me._

**12:56 PM**

Osamu promptly choked on air.

By nature, he’d been known as the more careful twin–between him and Atsumu, just on basic appearance of personality most would choose him. He, sometimes, would even call himself the more rational of the two.

“Saki-chan,” he called to the front.

_Careful? Yer more reckless than me,_ an annoying familiar voice wormed into his ears.

“Yes, boss!” Saki came to the back of the shop, just in time to catch a single key.

“I’m headed out. You ’n Daisuke-kun lock up a few minutes early. Gimme that key back tomorrow. There should be enough here to get ya through the end up the lunch crowd.”

There were two other employees working at the front and through the shop. They gave him bewildered looks on his way out the door, after hanging up his own apron, but nothing more than a brief wave.

_Rational._

He gave a sigh at that one, as he sped to the station to catch the next train.

Akaashi Keiji walked into his life four years ago, and since then, he didn’t think he could claim the title of more rational twin.

**Me**  
_On my way_

**12:55 PM**  
_**delivered** _

He watched as the status shifted to _read_ , and stayed there for the entire fifteen minute train ride.

  
-

_All that you are_  
_Is all that I need_  
_Rising like the smoke_  
_You linger on me_

-

  
He came home to Keiji in their kitchen, stark naked.

He was cupping a mug of tea, blowing gentle waves of air over the steam fogging his glasses.

First, why was he wearing his glasses if they were going to fuck them off anyways?

Second.

_Naked._

Keiji was, is, always had been an easy step from Mount Olympus. He was stardust descended from the heaven’s but he was also the reaper’s scythe ready to drag him straight to Hades. He’s midnight conversations spoken into soft skin; he’s an owl’s beating wings in the same midnight. He’s a bird that perches in trees, waits–waits, and waits–

“You came home,” Keiji said. Stated. But he smiled. He smiled, and clouds parted, and Osamu’s vision went warm and hazy because _Keiji_ –

Keiji is the romance Osamu indulged in like sweets on his tongue. He is the romance he gave himself permission to sink into. 

Sweet, tender, Keiji–in all his sweater soft edges was also a goddamn temptress. He was a buffet meant to be consumed–but he was a 5-star dish–and the critic was Osamu’s tongue ready to lavish him but also to take his morsel and roll it around on his taste buds till Keiji bowed like the neck of a silver spoon.

“Mm,” Osamu hummed, letting the door click shut behind him. “That was a nice picture ya sent.”

Keiji had the gall to smirk at him. “I know.”

His long fingers placed the cup of tea down on the counter. They dragged across the cool quartz, but Keiji’s eyes wandered over Osamu, drinking him like water.

In an instant Osamu crowded Keiji to the counter, arms slinking around the other’s waist. With his nose buried in Keiji’s neck, he took in the petrichor scent as it faded into his skin–through his pores like chlorophyll breaking through leaves.

Keiji’s arms tickled over his own shoulders, pulling them chest to chest. At half a centimeter difference in height, their faces counterbalanced each other as they tucked into one another’s necks and bodies. 

Osamu dropped his hands from Keiji’s bare back, down to his ass. With one swift pull, Keiji’s bare chest, hips–his cock, red, touched and swollen already with need–were flush against Osamu’s clothed body. Keiji shifted and electricity ran up Osamu’s body, through his veins and straight to his own dick.

“You’ve been busy while I was gone,” Osamu said into the man’s hair. His fingers pressed near Keiji’s hole, where he was already open. There was a layer of lube thick around his hole, used and ready for taking.

“Take me to bed,” Keiji said.

Osamu obliged immediately, then backed them towards their bedroom–the door was open for them to glide through.

Before Osamu could lay Keiji out of their sheets–rustled from Keiji’s solo activities–Keiji had turned and placed a finger on Osamu’s chest.

“Undress,” Keiji said, coaxing Osamu towards their bed. “Lay back on the pillows.” Without another word he disappears into their closet, bare ass turned on Osamu.

Osamu undressed in record time. With no fault to himself, of course, because it’s Keiji. 

  
-

  
“You will beg,” Keiji says in full confidence.

Osamu’s mouth went dry. Hot. He had laid back in their sheets. Keiji had positioned himself over Osamu, straddling his bare thighs, seated comfortably. 

“Ya wish I would, Jiji,” he said with a coo in his voice. With his hands placed on Keiji’s hips, he grazed over the pale bone. Keiji’s cock was heavy between their bodies. Osamu’s mouth watered thinking about getting his lips on it, tasting its saltiness–even for his hands, his fingers, to filter over the other’s cock until the movement would pull pants and cries from Keiji’s throat. “I thought you’d asked me to fuck ya?”

Keiji’s gaze fell across Osamu’s body–across his throat, shoulders, down his chest, until his eyes fell on Osamu’s hand still on his hips. He stared for a second, two, three seconds, before he pulled a black silk ribbon from behind his back.

_Oh?_ Osamu raised his brows. This was Keiji’s favorite ribbon–smooth on the skin, light on the wrists, around the ankles, sometimes over their eyes.

“Is it okay if I tie your wrists?” he asked, poised and calm. The ribbon swayed from Keiji’s fingers, long in its reach to where its end pooled on their sheets.

Osamu nodded. With hypnotic obedience he presented his hands to Keiji.

Delicate digits worked the ribbon until it was looped twice, each placed one another—the two loops hooked close—before slipping them through each other–and with one tug it was as if he’d crafted cuffs from silk. 

The loops settled on Osamu’s wrists. Keiji gave them a tug, and they were unyielding but they gave Osamu room to twist his hands in mobility.

“Place them by the headboard,” Keiji said.

Osamu did just that. Keiji followed the movement with his own unhurried drift. After placing his glasse son their bedside table, he pulled the excess ribbon and knotted it to a slat in their headboard.

  
-

_It's what you do to me_  
_It's what you do to me_  
_Touch me with no hands_  
_Hold me with your eyes_

-

  
With his hands secured, Keiji came back to Osamu. Keiji hovered, his lips parted just over Osamu’s, breathing into his space, breathing each other in. Dizzy on Keiji’s presence alone, and wanting–needing–everything Keiji wanted to offer him, he inclined his head up, where their lips connected in a charge of electricity. 

Keiji tasted bitter–like the green tea he’d been drinking. But his tongue rolled around Osamu’s own, kissing hard into each other.

They kissed till Keiji’s lips were swollen. Till they looked red as lipstick. Until drool was melted sugar dripping between their tongues.

Keiji let out a rasp, pitched his head to the side. Osamu realized with a startle that Keiji had worked his own fingers behind himself to work himself open again, though Osamu doubted after his feel earlier that Keiji needed much opening.

“Pretty, pretty fingers,” Osamu said, open-mouthed at Keiji who continued pressing into himself. “Didja fuck yerself nice ‘n slow with those fingers, Keiji? Make yerself ready for me? Press them nice ‘n deep? Didja think of me Keiji? What I’d do if I were home?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keiji said. His eyes opened, flashing. “You always finger me so well, Osamu. You get me open, spread me _wide_ ,” he let out a sigh as he pulled out his fingers, lube dripping down the digits. 

“Do you want to taste, ‘Samu?” 

Osamu’s nod was eager as Keiji dipped his fingers forward. Their dips dragged over his lips–smooth pads, slick and likely painting Osamu’s lips wet. He opened his mouth taking the pointer and middle finger to the first knuckle–just for a taste. He rolled his tongue over them, over the skin and nails just past his teeth. Keiji pushed them further until the palm of his hand brushed underneath Osamu’s lips

Keiji rocked his lips in time with a roll of his tongue between the other man’s two fingers. A halo of light had formed around Keiji from the shift of light outside their window–framing Keiji in an air of ascension. Rolling on Osamu’s cock it was as if he had the whole world at his hands to command.

“I wonder–” Keiji said, pulling his fingers out of Osamu’s mouth. His eyes glowed bright in the mid-afternoon sun, as they stared down at the saliva dripping off his fingers, “–if they make onigiri flavored lube.”

“Keiji,” he panted, licking the lube and saliva mixed on his lips, “Maybe we can look at that later when yer not rubbing on my dick.”

“It’s just a thought,” Keiji chuckled with a particularly slow rock of his hips, dragging his cock over Osamu’s.

Osamu let out a hiss.

“We’ll buy ya any type of lube ya want if let me fuck ya like ya asked,” he panted, breathless at the continued, slow drag, of Keiji’s ass on his hard cock. 

Seeing Keiji on his lap, panting, and rubbing his ass on Osamu’s cock–damp with precum and a mix of lube–drove Osamu’s thoughts to a lust drunken state.

“Please, Ji-Ji, _baby_ ,” he urged. “Come closer so I can taste ya.”

Keiji’s mouth was opened partially. His lips were shining with a thin layer of saliva over his well-kissed lips, the red coloring stark against Keiji’s pale skin. Still tied, Osamu pulled himself forward. He rocked his hips up towards his lover, his husband.

“Keiji, Keiji,” he rasped, “My Ji-Ji, come ‘ere.”

Keiji gave him a more focused look of assessment–past the smokey lust of their own minds–before dropping forward. Osamu strained his arms and shoulders. With the silk ribbon pulled to its limit, he could just catch the saliva dripping from the corner of Keiji’s mouth with his own tongue. Keiji dragged him forward like smoke inhaled. Osamu never stood a chance. 

“Ya almost demanded I fuck you earlier–let me, baby,” he said, then gasped with another rut of Keiji’s ass on his swollen cock.

Keiji’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were shining like he’d been given a prize. “Are you begging, Osamu?”

Osamu whined in the back of his throat, “ _Ji-ji_.”

Keiji’s nuzzled in Osamu’s neck, breathing in his ears, where he tugged and bit at his ear. 

Osamu jerked when one of Keiji’s hands began working at the base of his cock. He trailed his warm palm and long fingers up the sensitive nerves, teasing at the head. 

He felt, and knew Keiji could see, the flush that crept up his own neck–hot, boiling, under Keiji’s attention.

Keiji’s long fingers stroked the sides of his cock, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Please,” Osamu whispered up to him, voice rasping. “ _Please_.”

He tugged at the velvet feathering his wrists, till the post of their bed groaned.

“Are you begging, ‘Samu?” he breathed, sighed, tone low. The question was knowing. He’d won. He knew he had, as if Osamu would ever not give Keiji everything he wanted on a silver platter. 

Keiji gave another stroke to Osamu’s cock.

It was _amazing_. Keiji’s fingers alone had been a gift from the heavens. 

Osamu rutted into Keiji’s hand, giving a long and content sigh. Keiji looked immensely pleased at the sound by the upturn of his lips. Osamu then laid his head back against their pillows, letting the rumpled fabric smoosh his skin as he turned his head to the side; he took a calming breath through his nose then consumed the scent of their mixed aroma in the sheets.

Keiji then gives a swipe of his finger over his cock and Osamu groans low.

“Yes,” Osamu sighed, “Please, my Ji-Ji, let me fuck ya nice and slow like ya wanted me to.”

It takes only an instant for Keiji to pull at the silk, letting him loose from the bed.

Osamu, hands still tied, surged up, putting his wrists around Keiji’s neck. With Keiji seated perfectly in his lap, excess silk hung over his shoulders, hot arousal between the two of them––he looked like sin. He always did.

“Samu, Samu,” Keiji exhaled, “ _Please_ –”

“I gotcha Keiji,” Osamu’s cock sliding on Keiji’s belly, stomach taut. He gathers what he could of Keiji’s hair with his bound wrists. Keiji’s head fell back like he was going to sing praise, mouth slightly parted, as Osamu jerked his hips to give their cocks some well-deserved friction.

In a flash of movement, Keiji had stretched, and pulled with deft fingers at the ribbon until it fell away. Keiji shifted his knees until he’d positioned his ass over Osamu’s cock.

“Ya ready Ji-Ji?”

“For you, always,” Keiji said with a hungry grin and swip of his tongue over his lips.

Osamu took his freely bound hands and wrapped them around Keiji’s back. He pulled him until they were chest to chest, hot skin against warmer–then settled with the head of his cock positioned for Keiji’s hole. 

“Yer gonna make me swoon,” Osamu grinned back, just as hungry.

Keiji laughed–airy and like the notes of a harp, the sound coaxed the corners of their room. “You already have.”

With no other words, Keiji dropped slow on his cock. Tight, still, even after the work of their combined fingers and Keiji’s solo work, but delightfully hot around him. With each inch, Keiji hummed. When he finally bottomed out, cheeks settled on Osamu’s thighs, Keiji let out a gasp like he’d been holding in his breath; like he was an unlit candle ready for a match.

Keiji arced over, towards Osamu, laying his head on his shoulder.

“Good job, Keiji, such a good boy,” he murmured in Keiji’s ear, while he gazed at where the both of them were connected below. Lube and precum dripped between their bodies, immaculate on Keiji’s skin–a desire eat Keiji out with some g _oddamn onigiri flavored lube_ rushed to Osamu’s head

_Eventually_ , he thought.

Without the silk ribbon wrapped around his wrists, he was free to let both his hands swipe down Keiji’s body–the milky curve of his spine, past his perfect hips, where they rest over the meat of Keiji’s ass. 

He clenched the skin, and watched as it shifted under his fingers. 

Osamu had never stopped to consider if he was an ass man, thinking it wasn’t important when he was a _Keiji man_ , completely focused on him–but when it came to Keiji’s ass and the milky skin, so easily reddened, he determined that yes. Yes, he was an ass man.

Keiji gripped his shoulders under his continued ministrations. With another pleased sigh, Keiji tilted his head on Osamu’s shoulder, before his lips brushed over Osamu’s throat, and the rapid beat of his blood pumping beneath his own skin.

With Keiji softened, formless against his own body, he went back to his sweet torture of skin beneath his fingers.

He pulled, _pulled_ , tugged. He was gentle but he made sure to draw every lustful moan he could from Keiji’s throat. How could he not when Keiji was seated so prettily around his cock? He was like a drop of chocolate, or a chocolate covered strawberry–inviting on the outside, but just as sapid on the inside. His hole consumed Osamu’s cock–beautiful and red, stretched as far as his body would allow in the moment. 

With another tug of Keiji’s skin, said man laid his head back, exposing his throat. Afternoon sunlight filtered through their window, basking him in a glow of warmth and ethereality. 

“Are you just going to play with my ass? Or actually fuck me?”

“Psh,” Osamu hummed, mulling it over. Instead of answering, he gave the other man’s ass another squeeze. Pleased with how the skin settled back, red from his fingers, a smile teased his lips. “It’s so pretty though.”

“So would your cum on my chest.”

Osamu was getting really tired of choking on air. 

With a shift of his hips, just a hair’s tilt, Keiji gave an open-mouthed moan, verging on a whimper. 

“Next time,” Osamu said with a sigh into his neck, because he was a hungry, greedy man, who would never tire of Keiji––would never tire of what Keiji did to him. “Definitely next time.”

Would never tire, but was always sated by him. In every way.

“Tonight?” Keiji asked. He leaned up, with his arms snaked around Osamu’s shoulders. His lashes were lowered, eyes hazy with lust. 

“And they call me greedy–” he starts, but Keiji moves up on his knees–where the head of Osamu’s cock is all that’s in his pliant hole. He clenched his cheeks and Osamu gripped his hips in response to the pressure around the tip. He leaned back just enough to watch where they were connected. 

Keiji was lissom in his steady grinding, like the leaves of a willow tree, swaying.

That was the only warning he got before Keiji dropped again onto his cock, filled to the brim. Osamu swore he saw stars, sparks flashing behind his eyelids. His hands were tight around the other’s hips, leading, coaxing him to move again.

“Look atcha, takin’ all of me,” Osamu pushed his hips to meet Keiji’s drop, and Keiji cried out. 

“Right there, ‘Samu, right there,” he huffed. “Do that again, _again_.”

Osamu reached to tug at Keiji's ass again, pulling his cheeks open like it would allow him to go deeper, to give Keiji what he was asking for.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keiji groaned, with a bite onto Osamu’s neck.

He held himself there, grounded, as Osamu fucked up into him.

“Yer so good, Keiji–” Osamu said, trying to get voice above anything but need and hot-blooded desperation, “–always, so good, so beautiful–”

Keiji clenched around him, sending a high of pure lust straight to Osamu’s head.

“Is this what ya wanted this mornin’?” he asked, driving up into. “A good morning fuck?”

Keiji gasped out again, beginning to chant, “Yes–just like this, fuck, right there, aaah fuck–”

He groans at Keiji’s words spilling. With a particular thrust up, Keiji cries.

“Please, again, _again_ , ‘Samu, please–”

And who was Osamu to deny him?

With a shift of his legs, knees pulled closer, Keiji leaned back and started fucking _bouncing_.

Osamu gripped Keiji’s cock, it's pretty curve swollen almost to its limit. He stopped with his slow jerks, caving to Keiji’s whines in his ears. 

He gave a firm stroke–two, three–in time with his hips picking up their pace to thrust against Keiji’s ass.

With a quake, Keiji bit his lips, then he came between the two of them, melting against Osamu. Keiji, breathing heavily, pressed his nose to Osamu’s. 

“Come inside me, baby,” Keiji whispered against his lips. His eyelashes fluttered beautifully, softly, as his hips ground on Osamu’s cock. “‘Samu, ‘Samu–”

Osamu clutches his hips, raising and dropping with quicker, erratic grinds. He stops moving, then shudders, as his own orgasm takes over his body.

He pressed his lips to Keiji’s, letting the two of them settle into a soft, gentle kiss. Swollen lips brushed over his own, before pulling back. Keiji looked down at him with a satiated smile on his face. 

Osamu, pliant and relaxed, fell back onto the bed. Out of breath, he said, “I think I kinda like ya.”

Keiji scoffed, “I’d hope so. Since we’re married. But, I think I kind of like you too.”

He gave a featherlight kiss to Osamu’s cheek. He proceeded to peel his body from Osamu’s. The sticky white of their pleasure continued to connect them even as Keiji stood with shaky legs–to the immense satisfaction of Osamu–before turning back with a smile crafted by the devil themself. 

“Bathe with me, ‘Samu?”

  
-

_And I'm all yours, all yours_  
_And I'm all yours, show me_  
_I'm all yours, all yours_  
_I'm all yours_

_-_

**Author's Note:**

> extra: 
> 
> "Let's try the gag next time."
> 
> "Keiji, oh my god–-"
> 
> -
> 
> thanks for reading! kudos and comments always welcome.
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/spacedaichi)


End file.
